


I Didn't Know You Cared

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Whump, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: None of them had been happy when he brought her in, but she had been alone, feverish, and hiding from the crossfire of bullets. In spite of her insistence that Wyatt and Rufus would be back for her, he brought her back with him and left her in the care of his team while he went for supplies.And now she’s gone.





	I Didn't Know You Cared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newisalwaysbetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/gifts).



> Hey, everyone! This fic was based off of a prompt from modern-lady-trickster on Tumblr. (She goes by "newisalwaysbetter" on here.) 
> 
> Prompt: "During a mission in S1, Flynn finds Lucy alone and unconscious with fever. Unwilling to leave her behind, he takes her back to his hideout to nurse her back to health; however, his men decide she’s too much of a liability, so they throw the still-feverish Lucy out into the cold and tell Flynn that she escaped."
> 
> This mostly focuses on what happens after he finds her, because that's where my brain went. This fits into canon at a vague point in Season One after Flynn picked up Emma.
> 
> On a final note, this is my 50th fic on AO3!! Whooo!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas!

He cannot breathe, and as much as he would like to blame the cold, it would be a dreadful lie.

Lucy is missing, gone from the safehouse Flynn has been taking shelter in with his men in 1809. None of them had been happy when he brought her in, but she had been alone, feverish, and hiding from the crossfire of bullets. In spite of her insistence that Wyatt and Rufus would be back for her, he brought her back with him and left her in the care of his team while he went for supplies. 

And now she’s gone. 

It isn’t surprising that she tried to escape, but a part of him was hoping that she trusted him more by now. Still, he has no intentions of letting her die, not when he still needs her. (To stop Rittenhouse. To write the journal. To make things _ right, _ the way only she can.) 

He finds her lying face down in the snow, trembling, still somehow clawing at the ground, trying in vain to move forward.  _ Precious, stubborn, ridiculous woman. _ He pushes away the fondness, steadfastly ignores the terror curling in his veins (she is too pale, too cold, she must have been out here for ages, she  _ cannot die- _ ), and grasps at the irritation instead. “Well, now, that wasn’t very smart, was it?” He asks, crouching down beside her. 

She flinches away from his voice, but then lifts her head, brows furrowed. “What?”

Whether she did not hear him or she simply does not understand, he isn't sure. “Running away like that.” He pointedly looks her over. “Not very smart.”

Unexpectedly, she scowls. “Not  _ running,”  _ she hisses.

They cannot afford to waste anymore time in this spot. She needs warmth, desperately, and food, before it is too late. “Crawling, then,” he allows, scooping her into his arms. 

It is a testament to how ill she must be that she does not resist. Her head lolls to the side, resting on his shoulder. “Didn’t  _ run, _ ” she mutters again, and he is about to give some response about semantics when she adds, “Your men kicked me out.” 

The icy winds whipping past are nothing compared to the ice that floods him.  _ “What?”  _

She does not respond for a long time, and he half-fears she has fallen asleep. Finally, she sighs, a warm puff of air against his neck. “Said you were comp-compro-” The cold twists her tongue, but he knows what she is going to say even before she finishes. “Compromised. My fault. So they-” A cough cuts off the rest of her words, and he holds her even closer, trying desperately to shelter her from the air. 

“Shhh,” he murmurs. He has heard enough. “Easy. We’re almost back.” 

She shakes, and for a moment, he thinks she might cry, but then she draws in a breath, steadying herself.  _ Brave girl.  _ He wants to tell her it is okay, that she can cry in front of him, that he will not judge her. But he can hardly blame her for her hesitance, and besides, he isn’t quite sure how he would react. This whole thing is unsettling to him; Lucy Preston is supposed to be the fierce destroyer of Rittenhouse. This small, shaky, miserable woman does not quite seem to fit the description. 

_ Not yet. But she will.  _

He just has to keep her alive long enough to get there.

The house might be shabby, but it is a welcome relief to step inside, to feel the warm air washing over him. (Lucy sighs quietly, a content little noise that he cannot help but smile at.)

Karl is the first of his crew to greet him, thankfully. He dreads to think what he would do if the others were here now. “You found her?” Maybe he isn’t thrilled, but there is a hint of relief in his eyes, and Flynn wonders if perhaps Karl was more worried than he let on. “What can I do?” 

“I’ll find her blankets and a change of clothes, but she needs something warm to eat.”

Karl nods. “I’ll put the soup on.”

“Good. And Karl?” He cannot keep the rage out of his voice when he adds, “When Robert and Shade come in, let me know.”

Without waiting for confirmation, he carries her upstairs. 

She peers up at him through dark lashes, eyes not quite focused. “Cold.” She pouts, which tells him more than anything about how she’s holding up. 

“I know.” He sets her down, gently, resting a steadying hand at her waist. “Can you walk?” 

She nods, but with her first step, she stumbles forward into his chest. “‘M fine,” she mutters, and he wants to laugh.

“Of course you are. Why don’t I get Emma, hm?” 

Within a few minutes, the redhead has helped Lucy change, and he is allowed back into the bedroom. Lucy has apparently claimed the bed, cocooning herself in the blankets. It is a very endearing sight, he’s forced to admit. But she probably shouldn’t fall asleep just yet. (The thought of her never waking up, of such an incredible woman falling prey to something as mundane as snow, is more than a little unsettling.) “Lucy? Are you-”

“I’m awake.” It would probably be more convincing if she didn’t yawn halfway through. But she does, and he sighs. 

“Good.” He hesitates just briefly, before sitting on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on her arm. Her eyes fly open, and  _ oh,  _ she’s definitely awake now, watching him warily. “There’s nowhere else to sit,” he points out, though he definitely means to remedy that soon. “And I’d rather not leave you here to pass out.” 

She blinks. “Didn’t know you cared,” she whispers, but she relaxes as she speaks, burrowing into her pillow. 

It clearly isn’t meant to sting-he isn’t sure she’s aware of what she’s saying at this point-but it does, all the same. “Sure you did,” he says, and he aims for something light and playful. Something that feels less like a monumental confession. He cares about her. Surely, by now, she knows that. ”You think I’d go trekking in the snow for just anyone?” 

Her response is not quite coherent, and he thinks he might be grateful.

A knock on the door draws him from his thoughts. “Boss?” Karl. He rises slowly, trying to jostle Lucy as little as possible. “Soup’s ready. And Robert and Shade just got back.” 

“Perfect.” He takes the soup, gestures for Karl to stay put a moment, and returns to Lucy’s side. “Hey.” Her eyes flutter open. “Eat this. It’ll help. Then you can sleep, if you like. Karl will keep an eye on you.” She stiffens, and it takes him a moment to place her concern. “Don’t worry,” he promises, touched that she at least seems to trust him more than the others. “Karl won’t throw you out. He knows better. But I need to go have a talk with some of my men.” 

_ “No.”  _ Her voice is surprisingly strong for someone who can barely sit up to eat soup.

“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” This won’t take long.

“Please.” Her eyes water, and it  _ hurts him,  _ more than it should. He has no right to feel this much for her, to want to wrap her up in his arms and protect her from any sort of pain. And yet. “Don’t want anyone else to die ‘cause of me.”

_ Oh, Lucy.  _

It is not the first time he feels a rush of guilt for the things he has put her through; he doubts it will be the last. 

“Okay,” he promises. Because he cannot shelter her from the world. He cannot protect her from all of the pain the journal says she will go through. But he can give her this. “I won’t kill them. But I’m going to talk to them, okay? Just talk.” He’s always been a big believer that actions speak louder than words. But for her, he will try. 

She does not respond at first, and he is nearly through the door when her voice catches him, quiet but warm. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says, careful not to let her hear. “Anytime.” 

-

Robert and Shade are satisfyingly pale when they see him, but they still try to muster smiles. “You found her?” Robert clears his throat. “That’s great! ‘Course, her head’s probably so messed up from the cold, she might not even remember you.”

“She remembers.” He lets the words hang in the air, sinking into them slowly. They look half-ready to pass out, and he almost smiles. It would be so, so easy to take them both out; he probably could do it with one shot. They left Lucy out in the cold to  _ die,  _ and he so wants to return the favor. Maybe shoot out their kneecaps, and leave them bleeding out in the snow.

But he  _ promised.  _ So he takes a deep breath, exhales, and gives them a deadly stare.

“Lucky for you, she’s a better person than me. Made me promise not to kill you.” Their sighs of relief are nearly unanimous. “So you get to live. For now. But…” And here is where his willingness to listen to Lucy ends. “If either of you ever harm her again, you’ll be praying that I put you out of your misery. Understand?” 

They nod, and Shade clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, it wasn’t even our idea. Emma-”

“I absolutely did not tell you to throw her out in the snow,” Emma cuts in, appearing as if summoned. She rolls her eyes, scowling at them, but her next words are aimed at him. “I made a little comment about how it seemed like you had a soft spot for her. Water cooler gossip, boss. Sorry.” 

Irritation washes over him, but he forces it away. Emma is his ally. His friend. He can trust her. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t gossip about me in front of my men,” he says, and she nods. The silent  _ ‘or about Lucy’  _ is clearly understood. 

With that settled, he returns to Lucy, picking up a chair along the way. He much prefers her company anyway.    


Her soup is gone by the time he reaches her, and he sets the bowl aside. “Warmer now?” 

She nods, snuggling into the pillows, and he presses a hand to her forehead. Definitely warmer. The fever isn’t gone, but at least she isn’t icy to the touch anymore. 

“Sleep.” He settles back into his chair. “I’ll be right here.” 

She opens one eye, maybe debating if that is reassuring or not, before shrugging. “Thanks for the… Soup.” 

“Well, I can’t have you freezing to death, can I?” He shifts uncomfortably. “I still need you to help me stop Rittenhouse.” 

He expects her to snap at him, or to simply ignore him in favor of sleep. (She seems to be seconds from doing that anyway.) Instead, she just looks at him sadly. “I can’t help you.” Her voice is soft. “I can’t.” 

“I know.” He will not fight her now, not when she's hardly coherent enough to meet his eyes. Later, he knows, she will change her mind. (She has to change her mind. The journal promised.) “Right now, just get some rest.” 

Lucy Preston snores, he discovers, and her nose twitches when she sleeps, which might be the most adorable thing he's ever seen. He does, in fact, keep watch until morning. And when a much more coherent Lucy wakes up, he lets her leave, without even trying to follow. 

She'll make it back to her team. He knows that.

And eventually, she'll make it back to him.

She has to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
